The beast clicked its claws with a snapping sound and climbed toward them. Amok steered away, hand over hand on the wheel. The ship tilted, and Nathaniel grabbed the railing to stay upright. They turned around a giant urchin as a wave boosted them upright.
“Ha, ha, ha!” Amok laughed as if crazed. “The Manta’s Tail can outsteer the best of ’um.”
Urchin spines pricked the air above their heads as Amok steered through a narrow path. The spines scraped the sides, and Nathaniel jumped back as their pricks rose above the railing. If Amok wasn’t careful, one of them would slice a mast.
The creature followed, scurrying over the spines faster than Amok could avoid them. Brax paced back and forth along the prow, ready to fight.
“Helena’s grave!” Amok cursed as the ship caught on a cluster of spines. He turned the rudder, but it was no use. They were stuck. He glanced at Nathaniel apologetically. “Only the gods can save us now.”
“The gods, or my sword.” Brax lunged forward as the creature’s leg stuck a hole in the deck, crashing through the lower levels. Thank Helena Valoria’s quarters were on the other side.
Brax swung, and his sword clanged on the beast’s leg without a nick. Another leg came down on him, and he deflected it with a single blow. “Find the weak spot!”
Nathaniel glanced up at the mass of legs, claws, and carapace. Everything was hard shell. Another leg splintered the deck beside him. He swung at it, and his sword banged right off the casing. He had no idea how to defeat this foe.
Brax swung at each leg as it tried to step forward. “Keep it back!”
The boat tilted backward as the weight of the beast pulled them down into the sea. Nathaniel slid forward. He could not meet Helena and Horred. Not this day. Nor could Brax. Without its prince, Ebonvale would surely fall.
* * * *
Valoria woke slowly. Clumps of lavender dangled from the ceiling above her face. They tilted in a strange way, as if the boat had pitched skyward to the heavens. Voices rose on the wind. The sound of splitting wood echoed through the ship’s belly.
She shot up, and reached over the bed for her harp. Nothing.
Had someone stolen it? She was on a ship with only three other people. That was nonsense. She scanned the room. All of her things had piled on the far wall. The instrument lay with a heap of clothes. It must have slid across the room. Her bed scraped the floor, slowly skidding forward as well.
Lyric’s lyre! Was no one steering the boat?
She jumped out of bed in her nightdress, picked up her harp and burst through her door. The floor pitched up, and she had to climb forward on her hands and knees toward the stairs leading above deck.
She emerged from the belly of the ship. A gust of fresh hair blew her hair back. A field of spiny pricks surrounded the boat. Nathaniel and Brax shouted from behind her. She turned to the stern and fell back with shock.
A crab the size of a mountain towered over the ship, swiping its claws at Brax and Nathaniel. They danced with their swords, struggling to keep their ground. Amok cursed as he climbed the masts with a large knife between his teeth. Meanwhile, the weight of the beast’s legs pulled them into the sea.
Her fingers shook as she plucked a sour chord on her harp. She had no song for utter chaos such as this. Perhaps a minstrel army could hum deep enough to soothe the beast or scare it away, but a single woman? She could barely stand up right, never mind sing loud enough to get its attention.
A leg swiped at Brax, and he ducked, rolling away on his back. The appendage came toward Nathaniel, and he fell back as a sharp claw clacked inches from his face. He was positioning himself in front of Brax, and knowing him, he’d sacrifice himself to save the heir to the throne. If she didn’t do something, she’d lose them both.
Valoria breathed deeply. Echo would have to forgive her. She’d have to break the minstrel’s code yet again and expose herself to the necromancer’s influence by using her ability. She needed the power of the sea.
Pushing her fear aside, she closed her eyes and delved into the deep, dark place within her, that place where the necromancer had left a black spot on her soul. Fear, isolation, and death waited for her there, yet she drew herself in toward it, on the brink of evil.
The necromancer’s presence jolted through her. He probed her mind and traveled in her veins through her body.
“Where are you, Princess?”
She fought him, blanking her thoughts so she didn’t give him any hint of their plan. Dark judgments lurked in the abyss. Her mother’s death was her fault. If only she’d stayed behind that day instead of choosing her father, she could have saved her. Remorse suffocated her.
The darkness delved deeper, finding every one of her sins. She lusted after a man who was not her betrothed. With her recklessness, she could bring down both kingdoms. How could she be so selfish?
“Because everyone is selfish. Embrace your natural tendencies.” The necromancer whispered to her. It was as if he spoke right behind her into her ear.
“No.” Valoria shivered and fought against the darkness. She had a good soul. She would save the kingdoms, not destroy them. She drew the black power emanating from the abyss. It filled her with exaltation and determination.
She opened her eyes and summoned the sea.
The waves rose up behind the creature, pulling the water away from the boat. The creature scrambled against the tide, its legs digging into the sandy bottom. She pulled harder, churning up the sea until debris from the rocky bottom sifted to the surface.
“Yes, let the power overtake you.” Pleasure filled his voice.
Valoria coughed and dropped her harp. It clanged on the slick deck and started sliding toward the sea. The power rode through her, and she cowered against its force. All she could think about was the darkness, the evil, and how it obliterated the pain.
She fell to her knees. Her harp had slid toward the edge of the boat. The golden strings caught the glint of the sun, and she remembered Echo teaching her the first note on a sunny day in the courtyard under the apple tree.
A minstrel values their music above everything else. He brought her finger to the harp. This instrument will define you, challenge you, and make you more than you can ever dream to be.
She was a minstrel, a harpist, and her music made her whole, not this dark evil. Valoria crawled to her harp. Her fingers dangled just out of reach of the crown. She had to overcome the necromancer’s hold on her if she was to save it.
“It is you who should answer to me.” Valoria spat. “You abandoned your people. Remember what you had before the darkness. What instrument did you play?”
The necromancer’s thoughts poured into her mind. Long, strong fingers strummed a beautiful lute with painted leaves. A cottage by the House of Song sat along the familiar cobblestone road. Flower boxes held daises and herbs. An older woman sang as she washed the dishes in the window. An older man chopped wood in rhythm by the garden.
Regret, anger, and remorse cut through the beautiful images like a knife through a painting. Two figures approached on a winded horse. A young man jumped from the horse and helped a woman cloaked in veils. They approached the house, but the older couple shunned them. More minstrels came from their houses and shouted, tossing old vegetables and rocks.
They ran back to the horse, but the animal bucked and fell on its knees. The couple left it on the road and stumbled away on foot. A rock hit the younger woman in the head. She fell, her veils blowing away from her face in the wind.
Valoria gasped as everything made sense. She’d seen that face.
The young man did not save her. Guilt and shame overcame him until he could not bear to look at her face. He was not strong enough to endure their love. With one backward glance, he disappeared in the woods.
The power lost its hold on her and Valoria sucked in air in reprieve as if she’d held her breath for too long. She stumbled forward and grasped her harp before it fell into the sea. Stars blossomed
as a dizzying spell came over her. She closed her eyes, holding her harp to her chest.
* * * *
Nathaniel clutched a gash in his right arm. If he lost too much blood, he’d be of no use to Brax. Two claws came toward him as he hacked his way across the stern. He could only fend off one. Nathaniel chose the larger one and lunged. He missed, and he braced himself for the second claw to snap him in half.
Both claws snapped over his head. Had the creature lost its aim? The creature fell back as if it had lost its footing in the sea.
Now was the time to act if they were to defeat it.
“The eye!” He shouted to Brax. “You go for the eye and I’ll distract it.”
Brax nodded and wiped blood from his brow. Nathaniel didn’t know where the blood had come from, but he hoped it wasn’t as bad as his own wound. He lunged forward, throwing himself onto the part of the deck that the creature’s legs had splintered. The creature swiped its claw at Brax, forcing him to retreat. Brax jumped over the claw and landed farther back. The creature stepped forward once again, as if it had regained its footing.
If he didn’t do something bold, they’d lose their chance.
Nathaniel ran at the creature and leaped, clutching its smaller claw. The shell was hard and pockmarked with sharp barnacles and irregular bumps. The rancid smell of fish and seaweed wafted up. Using his good arm, he swung his blade straight down. The tip cracked through the shell to the fleshy part.
The creature swung the claw to strike him, and Nathaniel’s grip on the shell slipped. He held onto the hilt of his sword, straining his good arm as his legs dangled over a spiny clump just underneath the water.
Brax used the distraction to jump onto another claw. As the claw rose over the creature’s head, he dropped with his sword in hand. As he fell, he brought up his claymore and stabbed the eye. The creature jerked back, and every leg curled into the shell.
Nathaniel’s fingers slipped from the hilt. As he fell, he prayed to Helena and Horred his death would be quick and not painful. He hit the icy water and released his last breath.
Chapter 24
Lost Soul
Nathaniel awoke to sharp pain in his arm. Bright sunlight blinded him. He tried to move. Every limb was weighted down as if with stones. Was he dead?
“There’s a good lad.” Amok’s weathered face hung over him, the old man’s hair tickling Nathaniel’s forehead. He stank of ale.
“Is he awake?” Brax’s bass voice echoed from the back of the room.
“Awake as he’ll ever be.” Amok pulled away, and Brax’s angular face hovered over him.
His usual stoic expression softened into relief. “Helena graced you with a second chance. Amok spotted you from the top of the mast.”
“Pulled you out of the sea like a turtle.” Amok chuckled and took a swig from a flask. He offered some to Nathaniel.
Nathaniel ignored the offer, staring at his hands. His skin didn’t look blue. “The urchins?”
Amok patted his shoulder. “Didn’t prick a hair on your head.”
He breathed with relief. Then, panic shot up his spine. “Valoria?”
“Val is recovering.” Brax gave him a hard look.
Nathaniel didn’t care about nicknames at a time like this. “Recovering? Was she harmed?”
Worry, or was it disapproval, tinged the corners of Brax’s mouth. “We found her lying unconscious on the deck, holding her harp.”
“Holding her harp?” Nathaniel’s chest tightened. She must have been using that black magic again to help them win the battle. But what had she given up in exchange? He pulled his head up. “I have to see her.”
Amok gave him a stern glace. “You have to rest. Axel has been tending to her.”
Axel. Right. Nathaniel dropped his head back on the pillow. Who was he to demand to see her? If he wasn’t careful, he’d start to look suspicious.
“She is well.” Brax lifted his sword from the seat. He’d cleaned it since the attack and the metal shone in the sunlight from the cabin’s window. “I’ll be on deck standing lookout if you need me.”
Nathaniel nodded. Had Brax thought him too protective of Valoria? Or perhaps his obtuseness worked in Nathaniel’s favor, at least this time. He’d have to be more careful. He’d promised King Thoridian to support Brax, not stand in his way, and he reminded himself of the promise each day.
“Did you see Axel harm that beast? Your friend’s quite the warrior for an average street merchant.” Amok’s eyes twinkled as if he knew more than he should.
A street merchant? Is that what Brax had told the old man? Nathaniel tightened his mouth to keep from smiling. “He likes to practice with his sword.”
“I’ll say. For hours every day. I’ve caught him up before sunrise swinging that blade like it was a twig. Reckon it pays off when an urchin herder attacks your ship.”
Nathaniel sighed. No one sees the person distracting the beast, only the one who slays it. But that was his place, to stand in Brax’s shadow. He knew it well.
“I’d be careful if I were you.” Amok took another swig from his flask.
“Why?” Nathaniel propped his pillow up so he could get a better look at the old man.
Amok wiggled a knobby, wrinkled finger at him. “Blanca’s no fool. You so much as lay your eyes on another woman, and she’ll hit you over the head with a shovel.”
Helena’s sword! Would he have to live with her kiss on his conscience forever? Nathaniel rubbed his eyes. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“You break that girl’s heart and you’ll have to answer to me.” Amok narrowed his eyes. He stood, pushed his chair against the wall, and left the room.
Fantastic. Now he’d have to disappoint Amok as well. He might as well marry Blanca and make everyone happy.
But would Valoria be content with that? A little voice told him she would not.
* * * *
Valoria sipped the herbal mixture from Brax’s flask. She’d almost opened up to him and told him about the necromancer’s identity. But to speak of her connection to that evil would mean telling him the truth about everything—risking herself to save them, using black magic. Somehow, even though he’d demonstrated forgiveness with Ardent, she didn’t think he’d understand her situation. He might not even believe her in the first place.
A knock sounded at her door. Now might be the chance she was waiting for. Valoria took a deep breath and prepared herself for judgment. “Come in.”
The sight of Nathaniel brought a dose of relief mixed with reticence to speak with him. Since seeing him with Blanca, she did not want to interfere. She’d thought he might have felt something for her, but she’d been wrong. It was fortunate she hadn’t explored her own feelings. She could have brought down both kingdoms for no reason.
“How are you feeling?” He stood by the door. His arm had been bandaged and an ugly red spot had blossomed under the white cloth.
“I’m well enough.” She pulled the blankets up around her as if using them as a defense. “How’s your arm?”
“It aches, but it will heal. Amok said I was lucky. The claw could have sliced the entire arm off.”
She cringed, thinking of him with only one arm. “Who knew our captain was a healer as well?”
“He’s a man of many talents.” Nathaniel stepped forward. “May I sit down?”
She hesitated. What was the point of carrying on with their lengthy conversations? She would be with Brax soon, and he with Blanca. “I am very tired.”
Nathaniel did not move. His face turned solemn, almost stern. “I know you used black magic again.”
She glanced at the hallway behind him. Keeping secrecy was something he had to work on. Her tone turned annoyed and insistent. “Very well, close the door and sit down.”
Nathaniel closed the door and took a seat beside her bed. There was no judgment in his face, only concern. He had such a pleasing face, it was hard not to want to caress it. “Did the
necromancer find you?”
“He did.” Valoria shivered. “But, I pushed him away.”
Surprise lit his sharp features, making him all the more gorgeous. “How did you do it?”
Valoria tightened her fingers into a fist. She would have to limit their time together. He grew on her each minute until she couldn’t get him off her mind. “I found out who he is…or was.”
“Who is he?”
Valoria pursed her lips. Should she drudge up the past? What’s done was done. What meaning could it have now? It would only explain the darkness in the man’s soul. Not that she condoned it.
“You have to tell someone.” Nathaniel pleaded with her. “Even if it’s not me.”
Tears threatened in the corners of her eyes. She wanted it to be him so badly. She wanted him to be the one she told everything, the one she spent all her time with, the one… “He is Sybil’s lost minstrel love.”
He gasped and covered his mouth with his hand. “How do you know?”
“I saw his memories. I watched as he returned to the House of Song with Sybil on his horse. The minstrels shunned him. They couldn’t accept him stealing Sybil from the King of Ebonvale. I felt his anger, his remorse, and his shame.”
Nathaniel reached out and took her hand. His touch was warm and insistent. “That must have been horrible.”
“It was.” She sniffed. She wasn’t the minstrel. She hadn’t made such an indiscretion. “I’d rather die than be unwelcome in the House of Song.”
“You will always be welcome there, and in Ebonvale.” His eyes were so kind, they almost made her forget all obstacles between them.
She had to remember her father’s wishes and her promise to the queen. And Brax. “If I do what is expected of me, yes.”
Nathaniel took his hand away and set it in his lap.
This was the impasse they’d come to all along. Why did he have to keep pushing the boundary and making her wish her life was different? Didn’t he already have his own love?
Valoria glanced away at the waves lapping around the boat. At least they were free of the urchins. “I am tired. Leave me be.”
Orphan's Blade Page 17
